Zo’Dal had worked most of the stiffness out of her muscles and was starting to feel like herself again, except for the dull ache in her head. She must have suffered a pretty significant blow to the head. That would explain why she couldn’t remember being brought to the place, but it didn't explain much else. There were still many unanswered questions about her current situation, questions that clawed at the back of her mind. Where was she, exactly? Who, or what, had brought her here, and how long ago? Hopefully, a little exploration would provide some answers.
At the very least, it would give her some time alone, away from her new companion. With luck, he would find some empathy and tact buried in the piles of refuse while she was gone. Maybe, more likely, she would just find her way out without him.
With everything that had happened, she desperately needed some time to herself, to think things through. This hadn’t been what she had in mind when she had, on a whim, agreed to travel to Darkmere, to be an adventurer. Perhaps she should’ve stayed where she was, what she was: a shadowdancer, a thief, an exceptional one, even, but nothing more, certainly nothing as foolish and lofty as a hero.
She sighed and thought of her father, and her hand reflexively drifted to her neck, where her jet necklace should be. It found nothing of course, and the feeling of emptiness returned to her. As if responding to her mood, the darkness seemed to pool around her, thickening into drifting tendrils about her. She thought of her companions, those whose company she had joined and had spent a wonderful few days with on the road, those that she had already started to call friends. She thought of the warm meals and fellowship they had shared under a blanket stars and the shadows of the mountains, the stories and jests spoken and laughed and sung around the fire. She thought of Saida and the soft laughter that had seemed to bubble from her at every opportunity and could lighten any dark mood. She thought of Galan's unwavering conviction and kind brown eyes that inspired confidence and trust with hardly a word spoken. She thought of Tanyth's stupid, crooked smile.
But now they, too, were gone, and that night already felt like a distant memory. The darkness deepened and the world seemed to close in around her.
That was fine, she told herself after a moment, and the darkness about her wavered. She worked best alone. She always had. She was a shadowdancer, after all, a thief. With a thought, she pulled the darkness about her like a cloak, shrouding herself in a blanket of shadows deep enough to hide her even from the keen eyes of elves, or so she hoped, and turned her attention outward again.
The corridor continued on from the crematorium without interruption, and she glided down it with practiced ease. The rough stone floor bit at the bare soles of her feet, but she ignored the discomfort. Moving silently was far easier without heavy boots weighing her down, after all. She moved with caution, testing the floor with each silent footfall, senses focused outward, ready to withdraw at the first hint of danger. In moments, her doubts were all but forgotten, brushed aside as she eased into the familiar work of a thief. Her progress was slow but steady, gliding forward like a shadow in the darkness. She felt the familiar thrill buzz through her, the possibility of discovery and danger at every moment and in every shadow, and she wasn’t going to take any unnecessary risks, not here. This wasn’t some merchant’s estate with a few bumbling guards to give the slip if she should be caught.
A short distance past the doors of the crematorium, a shadow loomed in the ceiling, and Zo’Dal looked up to see another square chimney stretching upward into the darkness. It was larger than those of the crematorium furnaces, large enough even for Fel, though she doubted he would be nimble enough to make the climb. She was sure she would be able to scale the rough-hewn walls, but the ceiling was too high for her to reach the chimney to get a handhold. She cast about for a means by which she might reach it but found none. The shaft entrance was offset from the corridor walls and any attempt to scale them to reach the chimney would require a level of acrobatics she wasn’t confident she could perform. If Fel was present to give her a boost, and if they found a usable length of rope, she could scale the shaft and let down the rope for him to follow. She made a mental note of it, and was moving again.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
A few careful, silent paces forward. A pause to listen for danger, to pull the shadows close about her, to peer into the gloom ahead. The corridor stretched onward. A few more paces. Ahead, the corridor widened, opening up into a chamber beyond a stone archway. Like all of the features of this place, it was carved from the living rock and devoid of any decoration. Cautiously, Zo’Dal approached, scanning the archway for tripwires, seams, runes, or anything else that might indicate a trap, mundane or otherwise. Seeing none, she peered beyond.
The chamber beyond was square and twenty feet to a side; Another stone archway took the place of the chamber's far wall, a mirror of the first except that it was twice the size, opening to a passage nearly as wide as the chamber itself and continuing onward beyond her vision. The center of the chamber was dominated by a circular cistern sunken into the floor, at least ten feet in diameter. Water sat a hand-breadth beneath its lip, mirror-black in the gloom of her vision. How deep it might be was impossible to tell from appearance alone, and she had no intention of finding out.
As she entered the chamber, the air felt cooler, almost imperceptibly so, and a chill ran through her. She paused, lowering herself silently to a knee, listening and peering into the darkness, half-expecting a skeleton or some other monster to burst from the surface of the pool. Only still blackness peered back. A minute passed. The only sounds that met her ears were her own soft breathing and the rhythm of her own heartbeat. The water remained still as glass. Finally, carefully, she rose again and proceeded, slipping around the chamber’s perimeter to give the cistern a wide berth.
Several paces beyond the second archway, the wide corridor’s ceiling sloped downward, disappearing out of sight below the plane of the floor. Zo’Dal crept forward and soon found herself peering down a wide staircase which descended at a steep angle. But unlike the rough stone of the passage, its steps were carved of a smooth, dark stone that stretched onward before being swallowed up by darkness beyond her sight. A chill ran down her spine at the thought of proceeding down those ominous steps, but something seemed to draw her forward regardless, perhaps her own curiosity, like some silent voice calling out, beckoning her on. It was only when her foot touched the cool stone of the first stair that she realized she had been walking forward. She stopped, resisting the urge to take another step, and stood there frozen, peering down into the darkness.
A voice in the back of her mind urged her onward, but every instinct screamed against it. This way went further down, deeper into the rock, not up, where she expected to find freedom. There was danger here. Something was wrong. But there was no other way to go without Fel’s aid, unless had missed something, overlooked some hidden door or passage. She was sure she hadn't, she was too keen for that. Perhaps she should turn back, retrieve Fel, and try the chimney. Perhaps, if she kept going, she would find the exit below, maybe, even at the base of the stairs.
Time seemed to stretch onwards as she stood frozen on the threshold of the stair, desiring to proceed, but unwilling to.
A pair of eyes appeared in the curtain of darkness below, two pinpricks of light that seemed to flash for an instant. Zo’Dal tensed. Her grip tightened around the club still in her hand. She blinked, and the eyes were gone. Her heart beat loudly in her ears.
Finally, she managed to pull her gaze away from the spot where the eyes had been, and took a step back, away from the black stairs. Perhaps she had gone far enough on her own, she thought. She risked a glance back down the corridor from where she had come, then back to the stair. Still, nothing stirred in the dark.
She took a last look, sighed, then retreated back towards the crematorium where she had left Fel.